


Tailoring Romance

by panpanya



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 15:04:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19976065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panpanya/pseuds/panpanya
Summary: That's when love entered the scene.





	Tailoring Romance

Mila never had time to enjoy the pleasure of parties. Ever since she gave up the life of comfort in Russia and ended up in a garret in a slightly indecent streets of London, her entire life was dedicated to making dresses she would never wear.

Being a seamstress meant prickled fingers, excruciatingly painful back, dizzy head, deteriorating eyesight, irregular meals and an even more irregular wage. In the life of a Victorian woman, she should be climbing the ladder of status just like everybody else; attending balls and becoming a social butterfly that would eventually bring her the life of riches. Instead, Mila found herself in a dim, cramped room tailoring skirts with frills for agonizing hours that she had lost track of.

The last dress of the day was finally finished. She held it up in front of her view with both of her hands, quite satisfied with her hard work. After ironing and polishing it here and there, she hung it on one of her hangers. In the poorly lit room, the dress looked less vibrant than it was supposed to be—bright red, with long, dangly white sleeves and pink satin veiling down from the hip part.

It took her days to complete the garment. It wasn’t the most complicated one she had made, but it was difficult. Especially when she was pressured by the fact that her client wanted it to be done very soon.

Mila smiled thinking about her client. She was an Italian noblewoman named Sara, and Mila appeared to have taken an interest in her. Two weeks prior, she came to where Mila lived. Her place was almost acceptable to be called a slump, so she wondered how and why a noble would have the audacity to visit her. After all, there were better seamstresses and dressmakers in the city.

Tomorrow, she was going to pick up the dress. Mila didn’t want to admit, of course, but it somehow made her happy. Sara was a beautiful woman, with chocolate eyes and wood-colored hair, fashioned in the neatest, humblest hairstyle. She’d look like a commoner, if only it weren’t for her ribboned gloves, lovely bonnet, extravagantly decorated gown and the aristocratic way of her talking.

How happy Mila would be if she could attend a party with Sara! Drowning in the throes of wonders and mindless dreams, Mila fell into slumber in her study, dreaming about dancing to violins with the pretty noblewoman.

…

She woke up early the next day. Her sleeping schedule was impaired enough for her to sleep little hours. She was only lucky to be able to function well. Mila completely forgot about the dress she made last night; the only thing she knew was _hunger._

Food for a lowly seamstress didn’t include meat, warm pies, cheese and fresh vegetables. There was no such luxury. Breakfast for the middle and high class was substantial, but Mila wasn’t sitting on those castes. Every day, she would either make herself stew or go a day occupied entirely with work. Mila spread butter on a piece of bread, added shredded cheese on it, and closed the piece with another bread. The only companion was a cup of herbal tea she had purchased a few days before in one of the street vendors.

She heard a knock on her door when she was halfway done with her bread. Hurriedly, Mila ran to get the dress—tripped over a little on the way—and opened the door for Sara.

“Ah! Lady Sara! How do you do?” she greeted. “Here is your dress that you ordered.”

“Beautiful,” Sara muttered, holding up the dress to get a better look. “The colors, the pattern, the texture—everything! This is fantastic. How much do I pay you for this?”

“Oh, well, I haven’t really thought about that…” Mila answered, silently thinking for a reasonable price. Maybe, for a pretty woman like her, she should lower it down. How much should it be? To earn loyal customers, of course she never set up high costs, so maybe twenty-eight pounds should make it.

Though, before she was able to answer, Sara said, “How about I pay you with a ball invitation?”

“Invitation?”

“Yes, there is a ball, quite away from here, but still reachable by a carriage. It’s for everyone, so you’re welcome to hobnob,” she nodded. “I’m sure you’ve never gone to a party before, haven’t you? Come on, escape from business for a while and taste the real world. Won’t you come with me?”

“Well, that’s…” Mila tried to find a polite way to refuse. What was a cordial way to say no? It was a mouth-watering offer and deep inside she wanted to go—but she needed money more than anything else at the moment. A party, though, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to go just this once. “Are you sure about it?”

“Positive. It’s in a week, on Sunday, so you still have time to prepare for yourself. When the day arrives, I will pick you up here with my carriage. How’s that sound?”  


“All right,” Mila looked away, blushing. Sara was so kind. “I’ll go.”

“Perfect!” Sara clasped her hands together. “I’ll be wearing this too.” She gestured to the dress she was holding.

Sara waved good-bye to Mila, who equally bade her farewell. Mila was now left astounded. A party! She was going to attend one—probably the only one she would be stepping her foot on in her life. And with that gorgeous woman too…would it be possible for them to dance? But she must have had a lover or husband, right?

Mila sighed, almost in a dramatic manner. How things would turn out, she could only know in seven days. For now, she should clean the room, and then scavenge for the best to wear.

…

Sara arrived at her garret when Mila was still try to fit into her corset. The landlady was already knocking on her door, telling her to hurry up in the fear of disappointing a noble. It must be a pain to be an aristocrat, Mila thought. The corset suffocated her and she could no longer feel her stomach, but once she saw herself in the mirror, she was satisfied.

  
She smiled as she spun herself once. Mila was wearing a navy blue dress she rented from the nearest shop (she had no time to make one). There were layers of double pleats on the skirt part, in which the sides of them were colored a little bit brighter, and short folded sleeves. The collar was gentlemanly and covered half of her neck, and below it was a velvet bowtie. She looked exotic in it, especially with the net on her red hair and black, long gloves on her hands.

“Miss! Your friend is waiting!” the landlady yelled. Mila shouted back a ‘yes, I’m coming!’ and rushed to answer the door. “Be haste, we don’t want to be mocked and talked about by a high-class, do we? Just pray that she doesn’t leave by now.”

Mila didn’t pray, but of course Sara was waiting. As promised, she wore Mila’s dress, along with a pearl necklace, and her hair was twisted so elegantly into a braided bun, some of her curls showing behind her ears. She was also wearing a white hat, small flowers decorating its pink ribbon. “I apologize for my tardiness, Lady Sara,” Mila said.

“Don’t worry about that. And please eliminate the ‘lady’, Mila! Just call me with my first name.”

“But that’s…impolite.”

Sara chuckled, then shook her head. “Let’s be friends, not foes, or strangers. By the way, your hair is sticking out. Let me fix it for you.”

Mila didn’t expect Sara to reach for a comb and began to brush her hair, but she did. Sara was careful not to break her net or tangle her hair. The gesture was almost intimate, like between close friends or even lovers. “There we go. Much better. Did you have breakfast, Mila?”

“Oh, I didn’t have time to. I’m sort of starving, but I’ll be fine. How about you, Lady—I mean, Sara?”

“No, I haven’t. There were delicious cakes and sweets in the ball and surely I didn’t want to make myself full before test-tasting each one of them!”

Mila smiled at her enthusiasm. She didn’t have the courage to ask any more questions, though. She was too shy for that. Besides, friends or not, this was still a conversation walled by status.

“I like your rouge,” Sara said. Her tone was dangerously toeing a flirtatious line. She was looking at her, smiling with her chin lightly tilted up. Mila reflectively brought her hand to her lips, touching, but not pressing enough to stain her finger.

“Thanks,” she managed to reply. Inside the carriage, it wasn’t so bright, so she was glad she was able to conceal her blush. “I like yours too.”

Sara laughed. Mila was surprised for a while, afraid that she had voiced an insult. Even if she was sure that she intended it to be a sincere compliment. “I’m not wearing any rouge right now.”

“Oh!” Mila gasped. Her face reddened even more. That was so embarrassing! She hadn’t paid attention. “I…didn’t know.”

“It’s all right,” Sara answered. There was reassurance in her voice. “You’re feeling awkward, aren’t you? Once we start dancing, I’m quite sure you won’t be anymore!”

They arrived at the place half an hour later. It was an old building, not too big in size, and the architecture was gothic. The front yard was roamed with contrasting young people—women in massive gowns and others in day-dresses, men with top hats and those with berets. Sara was right. It was a hobnobbing party. Everyone was smiling and laughing and holding hands, didn’t matter their classes.

“Let’s get going,” Sara took her hand and dragged her inside.

The hall was majestic. There were chandeliers above, and it was probably the brightest room Mila had ever been into. People danced, swirling around like there were wheels on their feet. It smelled like wine and chocolate mousse.

“My previous husband owned this place,” Sara said. “It’s mine now. A friend of mine managed it, and my mansion is just behind.”

“I didn’t know you were widowed.”

“Oh, don’t look like that. It was a forced marriage. He was a sickly man, and died a few years back, so I took all of his inheritance. I’m using his money for better causes. He only held the title baron, and we almost fell into a slump because of his consuming behaviors. You know, booze and the like,” she explained.

“So you’re happy now?” Mila asked, partly curious, partly wanting to make sure that Sara didn’t just tell her a story of a successful assassination attempt.

“Very! It’s greater to live like this than with any man. I’d rather spend my life with a pretty girl like you.”

Mila didn’t know how many times Sara had made her blush, but this time, the heat on her face was so intense, and under all that bright lighting! She didn’t bother to hide it; she just stood there, mortified. Sara returned her stare, grinning and nodding solemnly, showing that she was being serious.

“Do you know how to dance?” Sara inquired, breaking the silence between them.

“Uh, not at all.”

“I used to have dancing classes, so I can be the perfect lead for you. In all balls I’ve gone to, I’ve always been unlucky enough to encounter mediocre men who stepped on my feet on every dance, but they insist to be the leader. It’s pretty pathetic.”

Mila didn’t answer, because Sara was already positioning their hands. Mila followed, then they began to move.

“Do you promise to let me take the lead?” the huskiness of her words burned Mila’s throat, forcing her to speak out a tiny yes.

Sara was indeed very good. Her movements were smooth on the edges, her feet bringing out careful, calculated steps and Mila followed attentively. All the time, Sara stared at the vacancy behind her and occasionally they would lock eyes—those were moments that sparked reciprocated smiles and winks on Sara’s side.

“Oh, pardon me for a while,” Sara detached herself from Mila after a few minutes of the waltz, causing her to stumble. She took two small plates of sliced cakes, and gave one to Mila. “You mentioned that you were starving. Please take one.”

It was easily the best, most delicious cake Mila had ever eaten. She devoured it immediately and was embarrassed by her eagerness. That was, until she saw Sara took a second plate.

“People don’t like me because they think I’m ‘unladylike’,” Sara talked when she was done with her third. “I don’t care, it keeps me away from men.”

Mila laughed. Sara was one of a kind. On the shell, she was eccentric, but she was also lovely and kind. The way she swayed her accentuated hips from side to side with the rhythm of the music, smiling sheepishly and humming under her breath made Mila happy.

“You must be bored,” Sara commented. “How about I invite you to a tea party?”

First a ball, now a tea party? Mila felt too special for the occasion. “Tea party? But where? And now?”

“At my garden, yes! Just the two of us.”

Mila inhaled deeply. “Of course.”

Sara’s garden was vast and fairytale-like. There were white steel arches everywhere, evergreen vines with purple flowers climbing up them; butterflies of all kinds and colors were flying around—it was exactly the scene of an enchanting storybook for Mila. The garden was filled with the rich odor of roses, the heavy scent of the thorny flowers stirring in the air, diffusing by the aid of the warm wind.

There were begonias and lilacs, chrysanthemums and other flowers Mila didn’t know. She could hear birds chirping, even if not one was in sight. They sat across each other near a peacock-shaped marble fountain. The table was small, way too small, but enough for them to lean on their shoulders and for cups of tea and a pot.

On the way to the garden, Sara had asked her butler for tea to be prepared. When they sat, it was already ready to be drunk.

“Sugar?” Sara offered.

“No, thank you.”

“You like your tea bitter and plain, don’t you? That’s interesting.”

Mila didn’t know how it was interesting, but she smiled at her. Sara sat with one leg dangling above the other, then poured herself tea—spilling them out a little when the liquid filled the cup over the brim.

“Oh, dear. Don’t mind that. I’m klutzy,” Sara beamed. “Come on, drink up.”

“Ah, yes,” Mila took a few sips. “Actually, Sara, I have a question to ask.”

“Well, we don’t have forever, so ask away!”

“Why are you so nice to me?”

Sara stopped. She put her cup down on the table and thought about it, pursing her lips and pressing them together. “Because I like you.”

“Huh?”

“I like you,” Sara repeated. “Ah! That was so difficult to say! Never mind. It’s only natural that I liked you…you are divine and amiable.”

Averting her eyes away from Sara, Mila tried to process what Sara just said. Then, she felt a hand holding hers.

“Well, let’s enjoy our day together, shall we?”

Mila nodded, entwining her fingers with Sara’s. And that’s when love entered the scene.


End file.
